


Cotton Candy

by mute90



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mute90/pseuds/mute90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The opinion of two chuckleheads that ended the world shouldn't matter to Gabriel. But it does and Dean-O was the worst. Post-My Bloody Valentine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton Candy

_In any other world, I’d be the good guy. No, really. Hear me out._

_Everyone always sees these assholes being bad little boys and girls and treating other people like so much doodoo._

_And it’s always, ‘One day, they’ll get what they deserve.’_

_Well, I just make that day come a little big quicker._

            So, there was this guy. He was once accused of animal cruelty. He got eaten by a chihauha; it was supernatural, for sure. The most obvious suspect was a girl who said the Chihauhu that ate him was just paying him back. She was seven with braces and with a penchant for screaming, “Dog-hater!” whenever the man crossed her path.

            It wouldn’t be the craziest thing they came across but, when they kept talking to her, she started crying and telling them all about how the mean man had kicked her puppy and called her a ‘nasty little brat’.

            Dean patted her on the head, a bit uncomfortable. “Dude had it coming,” he said.

            The little girl nodded solemnly.

            Sam kicked him.

            When they were away from the sniffling little girl, Sam turned to Dean. “What do you think?”

            “I think it was our old friend, Gabriel.”

            Sam stared at him, bitch-face firmly pasted on. “Dean, you’ve said that about the last five jobs we’ve been on.”

            “He’s using crappy disguises! I’m telling you that man-witch on the last one was him!”

_It wasn’t. In fact, that’s kind of insulting. That man-witch was an amateur compared to me._

            Sam shook his head and turned his back on Dean.

            “Hey! It was!” Dean insisted.

            As they walked away, another man walked up to the little girl. She was still sniffling, sitting on her apartment steps with a stuffed Dalmatian in her hand. The man crouched down. “Hey, now, he wasn’t worth crying over,” the man informed her. He pulled a cherry lollipop from his pocket and her face lit up.

            _I didn’t do it. It was a demon-dog, I swear._

_Still, I should have done it. That prick was exactly the kind I’d go after. And the Chihuaha? Genius._

_But it wasn’t me._

_I’ve lost my magic, my mojo, my verve._

_It’s their fault._

_They bug me. I mean, they are two chuckleheads who ended the world and have no room to talk but they still bug me. I’ve spent years judging assholes.  I made an art form out of it. Now, these two assholes are judging me. How is that fair?_

            So, there was this guy. He was a drug dealer. He drowned in his toilet.

            “It was Gabriel,” Dean said.

            “Dude, you’ve gotta stop,” Sam said.

            _Dean-o was the worst. He was obsessed. Everything was my fault, the deaths, the kidnappings, and the fact that his underwear came out of the wash light pink._

_Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel…_

“What is your problem?”

            Dean jumped and the chains fitted around his wrists clinked loudly. The shapeshifter upstairs could be heard moving quickly toward the basement door to check on his captive. He got the door open a good three inches before Gabriel rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. The door banged shut.

            “I mean, really, is it because I’m prettier than you? More talented? More imaginative?” he continued, ignoring the shifter that was now kicking at the door.

Dean gave an exaggerated groan. “Can’t you go bug someone else?”

            “Well, I tried visiting Sam in a dream. He tried dream-stabbing me.” Granted, he popped up as a stripper clown. Thought it would be funny. It wasn’t. “I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: no one has seen dysfunctional until they’ve seen that kid with a sharp object. He did it with a lamp too. If I wasn’t on the receiving end, I’d give him points for - .”

            “Aargh!” Dean shouted in frustration. He yanked hard on his chains.

            “Careful,” Gabriel said. “You’ll break something.”

            “I’d break an arm just for the chance to shut. You. Up.”

            “Why?” Gabriel demanded suddenly, all humor draining from his face in the second it took to blink. “Why? Why? Why? What is your problem? I do the world a service. I make people pay who _deserve_ to pay. I take out the trash. I’ve been handing out people’s just desserts since before your mommy and daddy went horizontal.”

            “Yeah, well…”

            Gabriel came closer and flicked his hand upward. Dean’s chain became pasted on the wall and Dean flew back until he was stretched out across the hard stone.

            Gabriel stepped even closer, placing one hand to the left of Dean’s head. “Yeah, well, what?”

            “You. Can. Do. Better,” Dean said, sounding out each word carefully. “You can make a difference but you don’t. You just sit there and watch your family tear each other apart.”

            “What am I supposed to do? Jump in between them? Cause that worked so well for you, didn’t it?”

            “At least I tried!” Dean shouted.

            “I tried too! Trust me. I tried longer than you, little boy. _Thousands_ of years, I tried.” The shape shifter took something to the door, a chair or maybe a bat. “SHUT UP!’ Gabriel screamed and the noise echoed around the house. A second later, there was the sound of running feet and then a front door opening and then bouncing off the wall. Gabriel smirked. “That’s better. You were saying?”

           “That all you got?” Dean demanded. “You tried? They’re out there dying and all you got is ‘you tried’?  Newsflash, you overpowered prick: trying doesn’t mean crap when, at the end of the day, they’re still screwed.”

           “I’m confused. Are you asking me to save them or kill them?” Dean flinched. Gabriel laughed. “Actually, I got a better question. Are we talking about me or you?”

           With that, he disappeared.

           The door upstairs could be heard banging open again. Footsteps made a quick check of the house before reaching the basement door. It creaked open. Sam’s voice traveled down the stairs. “Dean?”

            _It shouldn’t bug me, shouldn’t bug me at all because this is pure human crap. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Always making things all about them and their families and what they want._

_What gave them the right to demand things of me?_

“Back so soon?”

            Dean’s eyes snapped open and he was back in the basement. Of course, two seconds ago, he was in a motel room with Sam in the opposite bed. “I’m dreaming.”

            “Yup.” The chains straightened again and Dean’s back hit the wall. “And you dream of me. That’s sweet. You know, I didn’t have time to stick around for an answer. Places to go. You know how it is.” He retook his position in front of Dean, hand on the wall to the left of Dean’s head. “So…”

            Unable to do much with his shoulders, Dean settled for a jaw-shrug. “So?”

            “Ah, come on, I really want to know. Who we were talking about earlier? Me or you?”

            “I think it was pretty clear it was you. _Your_ lack of a backbone. _Your_ psycho family.”

            BANG! Gabriel slammed his other on the other side of Dean’s head and made the whole house – dream-house – shake. “I wouldn’t throw so many stones Dean. You got some nuts on your family tree. Little brother, for instance; is he still slurping up the demon blood?”

            Dean looked away.

            “I’ll take that as a yes or, to make you feel a little better, a maybe. Let’s see…” Gabriel shook his head and, when he stopped, Dean’s own face was looking back at him, talking with his voice, saying his words. “Trying doesn’t mean crap when, at the end of the day, they’re still screwed.”

            Dean growled low in his throat and kicked out at Gabriel.

            Gabriel pushed backward shouting, “Woah.” He laughed, loudly and bitterly. Then, he took three quick steps forward, grabbed Dean by both sides of his face and kissed him hard. He then pulled away. “I get it now: You don’t hate me. You hate you. I gotta tell you; that helps my self-esteem.”

           He kissed him again and this time Dean opened his mouth to let him in, attacked his mouth furiously.

          Gabriel moved to Dean’s neck, sucking on the collarbone, talking. “You try.” He tore open the first buttons on Dean’s shirt and moved lower. “And you try.” Dean grinded their hips together furiously. “And then you fail.” Gabriel moved back up his neck, bit at his jaw line. “I’ve had years of practice with that one. Thousands of years.”

          He got back to Dean’s mouth, muttered into Dean’s lips, “So, how does failure taste to you, Dean?”

_It tasted like cotton candy or, at least that was what Dean tasted like. Ripped-up little cotton candy boy, took him in my mouth and felt him disintegrate._

_It shouldn’t bug me._

_But it does._

 

 


End file.
